


O Human Child

by Magi_Silverwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nathaira - OC, Pre-Canon, fairy godmother - Freeform, fairy lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 14:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Some mothers are born with their child.Other find themselves.





	O Human Child

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.  
> Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please utilize understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.  
> Author's Note (Things to Know): woad is a plant that creates a blue dye and is believed to provide protection against all manner of things; mother-blood is a pagan term for the blood spilt during the birthing process; all bodily fluids are believed to have magical properties but the ones with the greatest amounts of power are blood, tears, and sexual fluids; in pagan terminology, there is a difference between someone's name and what they are called (based on the magical concept of names having power); in fairy lore, eating the food and/or drinking the beverages of a sidhe (fairy mound) binds a mortal to the realm and the particular fairy in control of it, even if such things are consumed outside of the sidhe; also from fairy lore, the Unseelie will occasional decide to watch over a human or group, which is not always the good thing that stories of fairy godparents leave the impression of.  
> Author's Note: Something that I think readers should be aware of (since a lot of people are probably not a variety of pagan that lends itself to knowledge of fairy lore) is that not all fae are winged. In fact, the vast majority of them aren't. Nathaira in this story is neither winged nor pretty. She is, as her name suggests, snake-like. Also, please be aware going forward that Nathaira's speech will occasionally seem archaic or oddly phrased. This is a character trait, not a mistake. She's old and set in her ways. Give her a break.

-= LP =- _  
_ O Human Child  
-= LP =- __  
But the truth comes out in riddles that are  
Safe enough to share …  
But heavy is the burden of the wise ones  
When no one understands a word they say  
 – S.J. Tucker, “Cheshire Kitten (We’re All Mad Here)”  
-= LP =-

 

Nathaira watched as the humans and the rockborn just left the babe on the doorstep. She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out their reasoning. When had humans taken to treating their young like pints of milk? It was true that the humans didn’t have the same problem birthing babes that the fae did, but she had been under the impression that they took more care than that. They hadn’t even cast any magic to protect the poor thing from the chill of the night or deepen its sleep.

 

The fairy crept forward, determined to see this strange child up close. The boy was pretty, like a fine boar. He had hair the color of night and already as wild as magic. His skin was paling as the cold set in, but it still had a hint of sandy gold to it. A jagged cut etched itself into his forehead at an angle from his right temple to his left brow, but Nathaira thought it complimented the baby’s delicate features. Maybe the humans thought differently and that’s why they had so unceremoniously abandoned him? She sniffed at the wound before giving it a gentle lick.

 

Nathaira reared back, her tongue draped over her jagged teeth. That had been foul. Human blood, especially of a magus, should have been sweet like berry wine. Something had twisted the flavor, spoiled it. It tasted of death denied and nature defiled. Yet underneath the taint was a hint of something _even better_ than normal for the blood of a magical child. She leaned in again for another taste.

 

 _There_.

 

She recognized it immediately. A mother’s love, no matter the species, had the same distinctive flavor. It was always a sharp bite that soothed. Whatever the reasoning behind this abandonment, the boy had once been _everything_ to his dam, a precious treasure that had been hard-won and guarded with a ferocity worthy of a dragon. That love and its protective promise made the taint even worse by comparison. The humans were gambling much more than the child’s life to leave such a mixture unattended.

 

Some potions destroy things when they finally explode.

 

Others destroy _everything_ when they do.

 

Well, humans never were what she considered _smart_.

 

Settling into a crouch over the sleeping babe that was almost as large as she was, Nathaira began to whirl her long, bony fingers over the open wound on his forehead. It was delicate work, coaxing the aberrant magic away from his own magic. Babes had a way of grabbing hold of things around them, even when those things weren’t good for them. With a final tug, she managed to get the little leech out of _her_ boy. Vicious glee filled her as she devoured the mutilated bit of magic, rendering it harmless by digestion.

 

Now to claim the prize due her.

 

Nathaira hissed as she found herself unable to lift the babe as she wished. Careful not to touch the deceptively soft-looking blanket, she examined it. It only confirmed her suspicion. Someone had taken care to hand-dye the blanket with woad mixed with tears and mother-blood. Mixed with her anger at being thoroughly thwarted, she felt satisfaction that a human had provided such a challenge to her might. The fact that said human had done so without resorting to violence made the loss even more bittersweet, for Nathaira _knew_ that she would never meet that fierce magus, not if the babe had been abandoned like it had.

 

No mother would take such precautions against losing their child only to allow said child to be taken while she still had life.

 

Nathaira took a moment to reveal in the sensations of it all before deciding on a course of action.

 

Well, just because she couldn’t take him home right away, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t claim him.

 

It might be fun, actually, to have a godson, and if she kept an eye on things, she will be in position to achieve the goal of finally taking him home.

 

-= LP =-

 

Harry Potter was the smallest boy in the whole neighborhood surrounding Privet Drive. His cousin dwarfed him, certainly, but Dudley Dursley’s size was only exceeded by his stupidity, so Harry had never really thought anything of being smaller. It wasn’t until they started school that Harry realized just how _bigger_ the other kids were compared to him. Even most of the girls were bigger, which was really unfair.

 

It was not his fault, not exactly at least.

 

Harry lived with his aunt and uncle (and the previously mentioned cousin). His parents had died when he was a baby and someone had decided to leave him on his aunt’s doorstep. Harry didn’t know who that person was, exactly. His aunt always refused to answer any questions Harry had, and even at only six years old, Harry knew better than to even think about asking his uncle. He had asked his secret guardian, but Nathaira hadn’t answered either.

 

Aunt Petunia had never hidden how much of a burden Harry was. That was why he had to earn his meals. Well, the ones from Aunt Petunia, at least. Nathaira was constantly bringing him things to eat and she had been very clear about what the price was. To most children, it would have been a strange arrangement, but it was the only life Harry could remember. Aunt Petunia hated him, and he could never earn a full meal by her standards. By contrast, Nathaira adored him, and she was perfectly content to trade feasts of honeyed fruits for things like a kiss or a drop of blood.

 

It was not the only way that the two contrasted. Aunt Petunia was tall and pale in coloring with milk-white skin and blond hair. Nathaira was extremely short with scales of dark green and eyes like a moonless night. Aunt Petunia hid her cruelty behind a mask of kindness and compassion. Nathaira hid her adoration behind a veneer of apathy and cruelty. Aunt Petunia would promise many things but rarely kept her word. Nathaira rarely promised anything but kept any that she did make.

 

Aunt Petunia had never wanted him but refused to let him leave.

 

Nathaira wanted him but couldn’t take him.

 

The whole situation was frustrating, and being small on top of everything just made everything _worse_. If he was even just a little bigger, then maybe he could stand up to Dudley instead of needing to always run away when Dudley decided that he was in the mood for a round of Harry Hunting. The game went like this: Dudley and his gang would chase Harry until they caught him and then they would beat him up until they grew bored of it. It was not a very complex game, but Harry doubted that Dudley would be capable of making up anything more complex than that. Harry also thought that it was the only way that Dudley ever exercised.

 

If a game took place on Privet Drive or the nearby play park, then Nathaira would often create difficulties for the gang of hunters. More than once, Harry had been punished because Dudley had been hurt by falling into a hole or had tripped over a sudden rock or limb. Aunt Petunia’s reasoning for blaming Harry didn’t make sense, but Nathaira’s eyes had sparked with silvery stars when she had listened to Harry tell the story afterwards. Aunt Petunia’s favorite angel statue had melted the next day while Harry had been at school. Harry didn’t get to eat that night, but a small part of him, nurtured over the years by his strange protector, was vindictively pleased by the retaliation.

 

“I will destroy more than a stupid bit of carved stone,” Nathaira vowed as she watched Harry weed around Aunt Petunia’s rose bushes. With her razor-sharp claws, she segmented a strange plum-like fruit she had brought with her and used a wedge to point at him. “The woman tries my patience and my generosity wears thin. As soon as I have you home where you belong, I will burn the entire house as retribution for the hurt she has wrought upon what is rightfully _mine_.” She shoved the piece of fruit between his lips. “Now eat, little one, before you waste away.”

 

“Why can’t I go now?” Harry asked after swallowing the bite. He twisted the weed he had pulled, breaking the leaves free from the stem. To distract himself from Nathaira’s sharp gaze, Harry bruised them with his teeth. The bitterness that flooded his mouth matched the hurt he had kept hidden. Judging by how Nathaira was watching him, she knew anyway.

 

“You know what I am?” she asked. Harry nodded once, knowing from his careful reading in the school’s library that he shouldn’t vocalize the word. Nathaira liked him, but there was no guarantee that another fairy would feel the same should he draw their attention. She pushed another wedge of red fruit into his mouth, like Aunt Marge rewarding Ripper. “Then you know that there’s rules that cannot be broken or bent. You are mine, little one, and always will be. Once I have you in my realm, no human will be able to take you away.” Seeing that he had swallowed the other piece, she fed him another. Her grin showed far more of her sharp teeth than should have been possible. “I have fed you too well over the years make up for the lack of care you get from the horse-woman. But the rules are clear: you must find the entrance yourself; become lost in a wild place; or be abandoned.”

 

“Why—” Harry started to ask only to cut off the question. He dropped his eyes to the loamy soil of the rose bed. He didn’t know if he wanted to know why Nathaira hadn’t taken the night she had first seen him. The fairy was the closest he had to a mother, even as harsh and snake-like as she was, and he didn’t know if he would survive learning that she had wanted him just as much as his birth had, according to Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge’s comments. He didn’t think fairies had the same way of loving that humans did, but he wanted to believe that Nathaira loved him, even if it wasn’t true.

 

She ran her fingers through his hair like he was a cat. Then her hand slipped under his chin to direct his eyes back to hers. Her nails were sharp where they bit into his jaw, but unlike how the same hold would feel if those nails belonged to Aunt Petunia, the tiny punctures were no more than a blip of pain that faded as soon as he noted it.

 

“I never met your mother,” Nathaira said, as if she was continuing a conversation. Her other hand came to press a last wedge of fruit into his mouth. Habit had him going through the motions of eating it like he had the others. “I do not know her name or what she was called. If she had earned any epithets, then they are not known to me. But I know this: she did not yield possession of you without fighting. She took steps to see you safe—” Nathaira grimaced, her expression of mask of absolute fury for a moment before relax again. “—and _not here_ , I’d wager. She took care when crafting your blanket, little one. Every night, you slept covered in her love and protection, safe from all thieves. Death could not take you and neither could I.”

 

“She bested _you_ ,” Harry asked, awed by the idea, “and you still like her?”

 

“Of course,” Nathaira announced like it was obvious. “She created you.”

 

“And I’m _yours_ ,” Harry whispered, earning a kiss to the tip of his nose.

 

At that moment, Dudley made a racket as he came out the back door. Nathaira disappeared into the holly hedge at the back of the garden with an almost silent hiss of displeasure. Harry stared after her for a long moment, toying with an idea. There was no way the Dursleys would visit somewhere that would qualify as a _wild place_ , and for whatever reason, they didn’t seem like they would chuck him out on the street either. But if he could _find his own way_ , Nathaira had said that no one would make him return.

 

He could have an actual _home_ and with someone who _wanted him_.

 

That was a goal worth achieving, no matter the price.

 

-= LP =-

 

Trying to follow a creature capable of moving as fast as a fairy turned out to be harder than Harry had originally thought it would be. Actually, it kind of turned out to be rather impossible. His reading had no good suggestions either, because he didn’t want to catch Nathaira and force her to do anything. He just wanted to find her home, so that it could become his home as well.

 

He could be wrong, because Aunt Petunia liked pointing out how stupid he was, but he didn’t think that binding Nathaira in iron bands was a good way to move in with her.

 

So he decided to keep track of where she appeared and from which direction. Nathaira treated his attention like an elaborate game of hide and seek. She would come from different directions or only appear when he was already distracted. Whenever Harry began to doubt if she actually wanted him to find her space, Nathaira would show up with more of the not-plums.

 

Harry wished he could say that his efforts had been successful.

 

In the end, it was a game of Harry Hunting that led to his discovery. Harry had squeezed between some fencing and a cluster of ash trees surrounding a fat oak. His only goal at that moment was escaping the pending beating. He was more concerned with staying out of sight than watching where his limbs were. One moment he was perfectly upright, with solid ground beneath him.

 

The next moment, he was falling.

 

…and falling.

 

Colors flashed around him, like flickering flames. It could have lasted forever or for only a second. It was impossible to know.

 

Then he landed in a pile of silky scarves mixed with soft moss. The first thing he saw was a familiar dark face grinning down at him. The flickering light that came from seemingly nowhere reflected of her sharp teeth. It should have been frightening. Instead it only comforted him.

 

“You made it,” Nathaira cheered. Harry gave her a grin in return.

 

 _He was finally home_.

 

-= LP =-  
The End  
-= LP =-

**Author's Note:**

> Competition/Challenge Block:  
> House: Hufflepuff  
> Category: Bonus Round (1500 - 3000 Words)  
> Theme: Achieving a Goal  
> Prompt: Getting sucked into a new world, (not including finding out you are a witch/wizard), like Jumanji  
> Word Count: 2440 (Story Only); 2482 (Story & Epigraph)


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